


Making Malfoy

by sapphirephoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: deflower_draco, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 10:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6980329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirephoenix/pseuds/sapphirephoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> Draco wants what they have.</p>
<p>My Submission for the 2012 deflower_draco fest at livejournal</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

On his twenty-second birthday, Draco Malfoy was not where most people, including himself, had thought he’d be. He was not being groomed to take over Malfoy Industries. He was not a bachelor playboy, out every night with a different witch on his arm. He wasn’t even hiding from the insular British Wizarding world, licking his wounds after the war.

Instead, he was defying all expectations, working his way through Auror training without complaint or pretence. Like many of his year at school, he did not want to see the likes of Tom Riddle in his lifetime or the next, and he was determined to protect the tenuous freedom that existed after the war.

It had been odd at first, sitting in a lecture hall with other students of his year, now undivided by House. He had thought he would find himself a pariah in the programme, but any who noticed him just nodded and went about their business. That had been his life for the past three years: study, train, sit the examination, move forward.

Draco wished he could say that that was the beginning and the end of it. However, about six months ago he’d discovered something, a carefully guarded secret, which he desperately wished not to know.

As Auror training advanced, the herd of candidates was culled. They were down by half from his first days. Seeing so few faces every day, it was simply impossible for him to forget. Days when grades posted were the worst. That was what had started all of this.

Six months ago, marks for a very rigorous exam were posted, and not surprisingly, Hermione Granger and Harry Potter were at the top. They always were. The combination of her research and his intuition was unstoppable.

Draco had waited for the crowd to clear before checking his marks, finding himself a respectable ninth in the class. As it had been the end of the day, Draco had left via one of the stairwells he preferred to move through. With the war still a recent horror for many, his iconic Malfoy looks weren’t always received well in the more public parts of the Ministry.

That was where he’d found _them_. They must have cast a noise charm or something, because Draco had been quite surprised to find Potter and Granger having a celebratory snog in the stairwell. They were quite engrossed in each other: Draco suspected that they hadn’t even noticed him. He had been about to turn around and take another route when Potter, his fingers interlaced with Granger’s, lifted her hands above her head and then held her wrists with one hand. His other hand had exposed her neck, and then his mouth moved down to taste her skin.

Granger had been very receptive to this and rolled her head to one side. Draco had frozen in that moment. Her eyes had been closed, but if they hadn’t, she would have been looking right at him. She had been grinning, her lips dark and full from snogging.

Draco had fled then, directly to the toilets where he splashed cold water on his face in an attempt to... _calm down_. He had never found himself so aroused before in his _life_ , nor had he ever been so confused.

Had he wished to step into Potter’s role or Granger’s?

It didn’t matter. Draco was going to satisfy himself with his hand until he was ready to marry and lay seed to the Malfoy heir, and that was all there was to the matter.

It was not that simple, he would come to find. He could never go into that particular stairwell again without thinking of them. It was a succulent secret. Granger’s failed romance with Weasley meant that no one would suspect her of a relationship with Potter. Potter, ever in the spotlight, had mastered the art of giving the people just enough of himself to placate the masses. Draco was jealous at how they’d adapted, how they’d made their place in the world while he had not.

However, as the weeks faded past and training intensified, Draco had been feeling that he could forget about Potter’s and Granger’s secret romance. What business of his was it anyway? Weasley was off playing professional Quidditch, and as such, the two of them really only had each other. Good on them if they could find something together.

Except that last night, after Draco had stayed very late in one of the practice rooms, it had happened again, intensified exponentially. Spent and sweaty from his duelling practice, Draco had gone into the trainee shower room. All of the other trainees had left hours ago, and Draco had pulled his shirt off, knowing he was alone.

He had walked toward his locker, which was in the very back corner. On his way, out of the corner of his eye, he had seen two silhouettes moving in the corner. Draco had pulled his wand, standing still as he determined what was happening. The room had been dark, but there was enough light to cast shadows. Not sure what he was seeing, Draco had strained to hear.

“You like that, don’t you? I can feel you getting wet.”

Potter. Draco’s heart had pounded in his chest. Potter was shagging in the locker room! And if it was Potter, then it _must_ be Granger making all of those sweet, tortured noises.

Even though he had told himself he didn’t care, Draco had moved towards them without a second thought. He had had to know, and to his shame, he had had to _see_. Just once more, he had wanted to see what they doing.

When he had gotten close enough to them to discern their separate bodies, Draco pressed himself into a shadow. Granger’s hands had been sliding over Potter’s chest, his shoulders, and his face. She had gripped his short black hair, leaving it even more unkempt than usual. Potter had looked to be doing hardly any of the work at all.

For Draco, it had been one of those times when the world outside ceased to exist. He had watched Potter and Granger, and it had been beautiful. It had been primal and raw. Then, Potter had turned his head toward Draco, and those emerald eyes caught what little light was in the room, and Draco had _known_ that Potter was staring at him in the shadows. He hadn’t been gloating or angry. He hadn’t been anything one might expect him to be.

Then, Granger’s mouth had moved to Potter’s shoulder where it met his neck, and she had sucked him there. The two had moaned, and Draco had had to catch his voice before it left his lips. Potter’s eyes had shut and his jaw tensed, and Granger had squealed, and then it was over.

Draco’s world as he knew it was over. Lying in his bed the next morning, he knew he couldn’t face the two of them and pretend that he hadn’t seen it. Three years of training to be an Auror, hard bloody work, were lost because now all Draco could think about was Potter and Granger shagging, and how much he wanted _that_ for his birthday.

He had been living the life of a monk, his single-minded determination toward his goal to be an Auror pushing him forward again and again. Witches had learned that Draco just wasn’t interested and had stopped flirting with him entirely. That was the way he had wanted it. Draco had wanted to bring honour back to his family name, and now all he wanted was¬—

Throwing the blankets away from his body, Draco got out of bed and into the coldest shower he could manage. His arousal was not easily vanquished, but Draco withstood the icy cold assault. He had training to go to, and he would _not_ allow himself to wallow in what he couldn’t have.

He kept his head down all morning, sitting in his usual position at the furthest corner of the lecture hall. He took notes, jotting down topics he wanted to cross reference. By lunch, he was almost relaxed.

Then, Potter’s voice was in his ear. “Care to join us for dinner?”

Draco was so startled his shoulders jerked. Potter was shorter than he, but the way his voice slid in Draco’s ear and down his spine, he couldn’t help but _remember_.

They were in the cafeteria, each carrying a tray and moving through the line. Draco chastised himself: that was some miserable observation for an Auror hopeful.

Without realising what he was taking, Draco put little plates on his tray and moved through the line. Potter followed him, as casual as if they ate lunch together all the time. No one seemed to notice, but, at the Ministry at least, someone was _always_ noticing.

“All work and no play make Draco a dull boy,” Potter teased.

Draco looked sideways at Potter and saw a cautious smile on his face. Then, he moved to find a table, and Draco realised that Potter was encouraging him toward a table where Granger was already sitting. She didn’t look up, but Draco stopped in his tracks.

What was he doing? He couldn’t go over there! He couldn’t just have lunch with them, as if they were old friends, as if he hadn’t seen...

Draco tapped his wand on his lunch tray and it turned into a take away package. “Excuse me, Potter. I have something I need to attend to.”

It took every ounce of Malfoy poise to get him out of the cafeteria and back to his trainee desk, barely more than a library carrel, but it was _his_. He ate without tasting, each bowl and plate disappearing back to the cafeteria when he was finished, and then he stared into space.

He couldn’t go to dinner with Potter and Granger. The idea was absurd. It was the very limit of absurdity. He had to focus on his training. He had to get through this, and after establishing himself, he would marry, sire children, and that was that.

Besides, there was no way he could do what he had seen. The idea of failing in an intimate moment had never crossed his mind before, but Potter clearly knew a good deal more about some methods than Draco could even begin to consider, not having had—

A look at his watch, and Draco found that his lunch hour was nearly over. He had to hurry to get to his next lecture. Flicking his wand, he cleared up his desk, getting his materials ready, and then strode toward the lecture hall. It was a quick walk, but he was one of the last people to arrive, and his normal seat was taken by someone else. The only remaining chair was one directly behind Potter and Granger.

Draco stared at it as if it were covered in spikes laced with poison. Then he looked at the two of them. How could they be so casual? How could they sit next to each other and act as if there was no passion there. Potter was even doing his foppish bumbler act with a witch in the row in front of them. Granger was reading some article in one of the extracurricular journals as if nothing was happening.

Then, the professor came in, and Draco hurried to the seat. From this angle he could see a love bite beneath Potter’s collar, _the_ love bite, from last night! Realising his concentration was shot, Draco pulled out a Quick Quotes Quill and set it to work on his parchment. Placing his elbow on the arm of his chair, and then his chin on his fist, Draco stared at the professor for the rest of the lecture, determined not to give the couple in front of him another thought.

Once the lecture completed, Draco gathered his things and left in a hurry. By some gift, his birthday was on a Friday this year, and he was ready to spend his weekend at his penthouse with his Floo closed. He was nearly out of the building, just a couple more turns to make, when Granger appeared in front of him, fresh from an office door.

Draco stopped dead in his tracks, but she saw him before he could divert his path. It was either take what was coming to him or run off like a complete coward. While he longed to flee, he knew that the other trainees would hear about it, and he’d never live it down. He had to pay the piper, so to speak.

She was casual as she walked toward him, her face neutral, as if she was checking something off one of her endless lists.

“Malfoy.”

“Granger.”

“About last night—“

“You don’t need to say anything. I didn’t see anything; no one is going to hear anything from me.” Draco sniffed and nodded, and turned to walk around her, into the Floo, and back home as soon as bloody possible.

But she smiled, and caught his arm. “Listen, Malfoy. Your initial assessment of the scenario is valid and reasonable, but you’re missing some important information.”

Then her hand slid down his forearm until her fingers tickled his wrist. Draco met her eyes, and suddenly, he was back in that moment, watching her with Potter.

His tongue felt huge in his mouth, and he couldn’t have formed a word if his life had depended on it.

“Harry and I are working on it again tonight, if you want to compare notes. Eight o’clock.” She slid a small card in his hand and walked away.

The heels of her shoes clicked away from him as he stared at the card. _12 Grimmauld Place_.

That was Potter’s secret-kept house! Draco felt the wind rush out of his lungs. They had invited him to Potter’s house!

Now he was in no rush to get home. It was five o’clock when he wandered through the Floo to his flat, and once again, he had something to eat without even realising it. His mind whirled as he stepped into a long, hot shower after a careful shave. He selected robes for the evening as if he were a machine and not a wizard about to go to Harry Potter’s secret house where he had been shagging Hermione Granger right under everyone’s nose. Draco stared at his pocket watch until it struck eight, shouted the address, and hopped through the Floo.

The world came crashing back into focus when he found Granger sitting on a chaise a few strides in front of him. She was wearing short Muggle trousers that hugged her hips and a deep green top which made her skin glow.

“Hello, then,” Potter said from the door as he brought in a tray of drinks. He was dressed Muggle as well in a white shirt that accentuated his frame.

Draco had never felt so lewd in his life, staring at them. He also felt over-dressed in his robes, which was ridiculous; why shouldn’t a wizard wear robes?

Potter set the tray on the coffee table and moved to shake Draco’s hand. “Thanks for coming.”

He had never felt so out of his element before. All Draco could do was nod, using this as his opportunity to take a seat. Then, Granger sat up so she could take a glass of water, and Draco assumed Potter would sit next to her. However, he sat next to Draco instead. “Should I take that bottle of wine into the kitchen for later?”

Looking down, Draco was shocked to find a very fine selection from his stores in his hand, which he gave to Potter. However, Potter just set it on the floor besides the sofa. Then, they all sat in silence for a few long minutes.

_Finally_ , Potter cleared his throat. He turned, resting one arm behind Draco on the back of the sofa, his glass of water held atop his knee. “We’re tired of waiting for you to make a move, Draco. Can I call you Draco? I’m calling you Draco.”

Draco’s head snapped to the side as a bit of Potter’s foppish, bumbling charm came his way. He liked being at the centre of Potter’s attention, but he was also immediately suspicious of it.

“This isn’t like you,” he continued. “Draco Malfoy doesn’t sit idly by at ninth in the class, and he certainly doesn’t see a witch like Hermione and not do his best to steal her from his one-time rival.”

“Unless he’s still bothered by blood...” Hermione added.

Draco’s head snapped her way, his blood racing cold. When he looked at her though, she was smiling at him, as if she _knew_ he wasn’t, which was true.

“I mean, _Draco_ , you’ve been downright Hufflepuff the last three years.” Potter’s voice crept into Draco’s ear.

_That_ caught him off-guard, and he choked on his swallow of water. Coughing loudly, he stood and sputtered. Potter clapped him on the back and after what felt like a long time, Draco felt okay again.

Which is why he drew his wand and buried the tip under Potter’s chin. “Whom are you calling ‘Hufflepuff’?”

But Potter only smiled and turned his head to expose the love bite Granger had given him the night before.

Behind them, Granger hummed. Draco turned to look at her, never moving his wand. She looked... odd.

“You know, Draco,” Potter croaked. “When you’ve known someone as long and as well as I have Hermione, you get to hear the most interesting facts.”

Granger blushed but did not look away.

“She _really_ likes to watch you duel, if you catch my meaning,” Potter said, his voice suggesting far more than his words.

She licked her lips and nodded.

Draco’s wand whipped down to his side. “You’ve got to be joking.”

She just shook her head. Potter put the flat of his hand on Draco’s bicep. “We see how you changed, how ascetic you’ve been, especially since you first saw us. We _wanted_ you to see us. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Harry Potter was inviting him to.... what? Watch? _Perform?_ Draco gasped, shouldering his way back to the Floo. “Whatever it is, you’ve got the wrong idea about me.”

Potter grabbed him, pulled him back from the fireplace. He was surprisingly strong for someone of his size. “Let’s just talk about it, Malfoy. You can’t possibly be telling me _after last night_ that you’re not interested. You weren’t as far into the shadows as you thought you were.” With a careful shift of his eyes over Draco’s body, Potter communicated volumes about last night.

Draco felt his face flame. “There is _nothing_ to talk about. Right now, I’m working on my career. Once I have a career, I will marry. That is my future.” He hoped at least Granger would pick up on his meaning.

Pulling his arm away from Draco, Potter looked up at him, brows furrowed over his bright green eyes. “And who decided that?”

“Who do you think?” Draco sneered. As if he’d had any decisions to make on his own, as if his whole life before Auror training hadn’t been inherited.

Granger stood from the couch. “He’s not here to make your decisions anymore, Draco.”

“I have to focus on becoming someone first, Granger!”

She drew back as if slapped, but then stepped in front of him. She grabbed the front of his robes and pulled him down so she could look him in the eye. “You _are_ somebody, Draco Malfoy!” Then, she shoved him away.

Draco whirled back, taking two large steps after being shoved. She looked furious with him. Once again, the silence stretched out, and Draco didn’t know what to do.

Then, some wretched old house-elf appeared to announce dinner. He bowed deeply before Draco and popped out of sight.

“I’m starved.” Potter nodded and led the way out of the reception room.

“As usual,” Granger teased. She stepped toward Draco and laced her fingers with his, leading him through the kitchen to the dining room.

Dinner started off with the typical courtesies, and Granger even managed to drum up conversation over some of their recent training runs. As the soup was taken away, however, Potter pressed onwards, regardless of thought or courtesy.

“Do you like wizards, Draco?”

Draco stared at his plate, speechless. Granger chastised Potter, but it didn’t remove the question from the air. It hung over him like a dozen wands pointed directly at his chest.

Potter leaned forward, elbows on the table, buttered bread halfway to his mouth. “I’m honestly dying to know. Have you been thinking about me?”

Pressing his napkin over his lips, Draco stared at the ceiling now. Did he think about Harry Potter? Hadn’t he always? Before he’d met him on the Hogwarts Express, he’d heard his father’s whispers, and after being slighted on the train and all through Hogwarts, and then when he’d been on the role call for Auror training.

But that’s not what he meant was it. Potter meant had he thought about him licking his neck as he had Granger’s the first night? And hadn’t he been pinned by those eyes as Granger had taken her pleasure in the locker room?

“Draco, you’re blushing.” Granger tapped her wand against his water glass and it refilled.

Potter finished chewing his bread and said, “It suits.” Then, he pushed more bread into his mouth and began cutting his meat.

Dinner finished in silence, although it wasn’t awkward as it had been before. It was _charged_. The air seemed to be carrying the buzz of opportunity all around them. When they retired from dinner, they moved even further into the house, and Potter explained he had had this room renovated for comfort.

Potter sat, and Granger moved right under his arm. Draco was just about to sit in an arm chair when Granger patted the seat beside her. He sat, and Potter covered Granger’s mouth with his. She melted into him, snogging as if it was the only thing in the world to do. Draco leaned forward to get up and move, but Potter’s hand swung out, holding his shoulder to keep him in place.

Coming up from Granger, Potter looked at her for a moment before he looked up at Draco. “Do you like witches, Draco?”

Granger smiled at Draco and said, “He’s just being an arse.” She leaned away from Potter, angled her face toward Draco’s and closed her eyes.

He stared at her, unable to act until he saw her tongue dart out over her lips. He kissed her once, and then held her jaw with a delicate touch. His next kiss was more firm, and the next she kissed him back. When her tongue touched his lip, Draco moaned out loud. Then they were snogging, and it was unlike anything Draco had ever felt before.

Just as he felt he could keep on forever, someone in the background cleared his throat. Draco stilled before pulling Granger’s lip between his teeth one last time.

She was breathing heavily, and Draco felt a great sense of pride.

“He’s a quick learner, which we already knew,” she said. Granger was staring at him now, although she nestled her back against Potter’s chest.

Potter’s hand came around her belly and over her breast, holding there for a moment. “I can’t wait to find out for myself.”

Draco stared at him and felt his face flame again. _Kiss Harry Potter?_

Instead, Potter put his lips to Granger’s temple. “Next week, if you want.” Then, he began playing with her breast, massaging it softly. Granger closed her eyes, and Draco felt like less of a cad for staring at Potter’s hand than if she had been watching him.

He observed, memorising the ways Potter played with her. It was mesmerising how her body responded. After a while, Draco’s hand was pulled to her other breast, and he had a chance to explore her there. Through her top he could feel her brassiere, and through that, he could feel her nipple hardening. She was humming softly, and one of her legs went across his lap.

Draco looked up and saw _that_ look on Potter’s face, the one that meant that he’d found the Snitch and was about to race for it. He pulled Hermione’s nipple a little away from her chest, and Draco followed, matching every move Potter made with his hand on her breast. Her hums were getting tighter sounding, higher in pitch, and straining. Draco felt her leg clamp down across his, and the next thing he knew, she was squealing like she had the night before.

Reckless and out of control, Draco’s free hand rubbed himself through his robes, and he shot off inside his pants. His hips thrust against Granger’s leg, and he didn’t realise what he’d done until it was far too late. He was so embarrassed; he could barely open his eyes. When he did, Granger was smiling at him, looking giddy and relaxed.

Potter, however, stared at him. Green eyes were burning, but his mouth was slack in amazement. “It’s true, then.”

“Not something a bloke would lie about, Potter.”

Potter leaned forward and slid his hand down Draco’s cheek. “Call me ‘Harry’.”

For a moment, Potter looked so vulnerable, so covetous of Draco, that he didn’t know what to think. He swallowed and said, “Harry.”

Granger pulled her leg back. It seems she was aware that Draco would want to take care of himself, so he took the opportunity to clean himself up with a spell.

“Will you come back tomorrow, Draco?” Granger asked. She was straightening her top, although there was no way he could look at her without seeing her nipples, now.

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but only a large yawn came out. He smiled, feeling more relaxed than he had in a long time. He longed to go to sleep. “I will.”

They walked to the receiving room, Granger’s fingers once again twined with his. Draco threw in the powder and announced his address, giving them one last look before he climbed through the Floo. Once home, he stripped off all his clothes, leaving them throughout the flat as he walked to bed. He fell asleep when his head hit the pillow and slept better than he had in months.

* * *

The next night was about the same, although Draco was less nervous. Pott— _Harry_ watched him like a hawk, and Hermione was charming as ever, as if she and Draco were genuine sweethearts. After dinner, they sat on the couch as before, but this time Hermione curled herself under _Draco’s_ arm. Then they snogged, and she snogged Harry. 

Somehow, Draco found her arse on his thighs, and when he and Harry began to tease her, she writhed against him. Draco had wanked before stepping through the Floo, so he was able to withstand this glorious new feeling without shooting off like he had the first night. Well, at first.

After Hermione had had her orgasm, wriggling and trembling in Draco’s lap, she turned and looked at Draco. He was hard as a rock, and she nestled against him so that her arse was just over his rigid length. Then she pulled his hands down to her thighs, which he squeezed and rubbed. Her teeth had found his earlobe, and she had whispered the naughtiest things as she nipped and sucked him there. Her arse rolled against him, and it was just a few minutes before he was once again spilling into his pants.

She was a temptress. Draco looked over at Harry, whose eyes were blazing once again. His eyebrows rose for just a second, and Draco couldn’t stop himself from looking Harry over. His trousers were tented, and while Draco was watching, Harry slid his hand inside to make an obvious adjustment.

It occurred to Draco that Potter hadn’t finished, nor had he the night before. His heart skipped a beat.

“Not tonight,” Harry said, his voice deeper than usual with a definite hint of gravel beneath.

Then, Hermione’s voice was in his ear. “He’ll have me after you go. We talked about you _the whole time_ after you left.”

Draco stared into the centre of the room, absolutely gobsmacked. Images of Potter and Granger fucking flashed through his eyes. Not to mention the dirty things they must have said, which Draco could now imagine after hearing Hermione whisper into his ear.

Harry’s fingers slid down from her temple to her neck and finished on the empty space between her breasts. With a start, he realised that he was delaying Potter from his own pleasure. Draco found he _wanted_ them to continue, even without him, and he stood to leave.

Hermione hopped up, as well, to walk him out. One last look at Harry, and then they were moving back to the receiving room.

“Thank you for coming,” Hermione said when they were in front of the Floo. Her fingers gripped his, and she pulled one arm around her body.

Draco wrapped his other arm around her. He felt drunk and light and thought he could go again without too much difficulty. Hermione’s hands slid up his arms, and they were snogging again. It felt like he was tumbling into her, falling and falling as their tongues rubbed against each other, and soon they were both murmuring with their excitement.

The feeling of lightness turned to light-headedness, and Draco had to pull away. He fought to catch his breath. Looking around the room, he saw Harry leaning in the doorway, smiling.

“Come again next week?” Harry asked.

Draco nodded, trying to convince himself he should step away from Hermione now.

“Very good.” Harry licked his lips. “And, even though I’m sure you know, I just wanted to mention that it’d be best for all parties if this was kept...”

Nodding again, Draco understood. No one knew about Granger and Potter being secret lovers. This would be secret as well.

They said goodnight, and Draco Flooed home. Unlike the night before, he ended up staring at the ceiling for hours, long after he had pictured Potter and Granger snogging and more, his own name falling from their lips.

* * *

Draco had to fight through Monday and training with the memories bubbling up to the top. In some ways he felt as if he was swimming, as if the air was water, but only for him. In other ways, he felt like a veil had been pulled back from the world, and he was seeing it anew.

The first thing that struck was that his trainee desk was absolutely abysmal: tatty and worn, and entirely in the wrong place. He couldn’t see who was coming; he couldn’t see what everyone else was doing. Essentially, he was the watched when he should be the watcher. This was when he realised just how well-placed Potter’s and Granger’s desks were. Their desk flanked the instructor’s door, which was an excellent position for informational purposes, as well as avoiding menial tasks. Draco could think of numerous times they’d not been selected for some low errand simply by the virtue that when the instructor walked a few steps out of his office, his back was to Potter and Granger.

It was genius, and Draco wanted his desk there as well. However, that was not possible. As it was, the trainee desks were on either side of a long, hall-like room. They bracketed together, running parallel from the door in to the instructor’s door.

The next best spot was clearly directly next the door into the room, and he if could manage to _persuade_ the wizard who sat there to switch with him...

With that idea forming in his head, Draco began to really pay attention to the other Auror instructors. The way the system was set up, there were coaches and trainers in specialised subjects, but each group of recruits had the same instructors throughout their entire training. As each unit decreased in size, instructors would cycle into new levels, staying on or breaking away as arranged by the higher-ups.

In his penthouse after training, Draco started mapping out this hierarchy. He tried to ignore that it had taken Granger’s words to get him into this mind-set, but honestly, ninth place was no standing for a Malfoy. He would be damned if he wasn’t in the top three in the coming months.

* * *

The following Friday, Draco stepped through the Floo and was greeted by Potter alone. Granger was running late, it seemed. His heart pounded when Potter told him. He was disappointed, yes, since he had been looking forward to having her skin against his again, even if it was just fingers and lips.

There was something else, something exhilarating, too. He was alone with Potter, with _Harry_. Harry who sat closer to him on the sofa than a bloke usually would, who looked at him a little more closely than a bloke usually would. Harry, whose confidence and power made Draco, a _Malfoy_ , self-conscious.

Which is how Draco found himself sitting silently, tongue tied in his mouth while his brain seemed devoid of a single idea.

“Don’t be nervous.”

Draco’s head jerked toward Harry, the humiliating evidence that he was, in fact, _very_ nervous. He flexed his jaw and stared straight ahead, waiting for the heat to fade from his cheeks.

Harry, as always, wasn’t waiting for anything. His thumb came from nowhere, it seemed, and pulled Draco’s lower lip down, just a little bit.

He hadn’t even realised that his lips had folded together. Heat bloomed once more in his face.

Clearing his throat, Harry said, “Doesn’t Hermione feel great in your lap.”

Not a question. Draco answered with a single nod, raising his eyebrows at the memory he’d been reliving all week.

“She’s so powerful, it’s easy to forget how petite she is.”

_Right._ Draco was almost sure he’d said it out loud. He wouldn’t risk repeating himself though.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Harry wipe his hands on his denims. Perhaps he was a bit nervous, too. That helped Draco relax a bit.

Until he blinked, and found Potter straddling his thighs. Draco’s heart pounded as if it was trying to break out of his chest.

Harry licked his lips. They stared at each other for a moment. Draco had no idea what to do with his hands. His mouth felt dry, but he had to swallow. Harry’s eyes flicked down, and Draco felt oddly proud that he was staring at his Adam’s apple.

“I want to kiss you, Draco.”

Draco looked at Harry all over. His hands were resting on his denim clad thighs. He was lighter than Draco expected, and the breadth of his shoulders and the taper of his hips were much more obvious from this angle.

“You can pretend it’s Hermione if that’s easi—“

“No.”

Both men froze.

Then, Harry’s weight shifted. “No, you don’t want me to kiss you?”

It felt as if Harry was retreating, and Draco acted without thought. His hands fisted in the soft cotton of Harry’s shirt, just above his denims. He held him there, heart still pounding a mile a minute.

Harry was waiting him out, though. His face was neutral, not giving anything away.

Draco licked his lips and swallowed again. “I... I don’t want to pretend it’s Hermione.”

The weight on his thighs settled again, and Draco felt as if they had stepped back from the ledge of rejection. He looked up, and Harry was smiling at him, looking relieved.

Draco couldn’t believe that, but Hermione had said they’d talked about him after he left. “Have you been thinking about me, Harry?”

_At last!_ It was Harry’s turn to blush, now. He closed his eyes and nodded.

Draco let his eyes look at Harry again, really drink him in this time. His shirt was pulled taut over his body. He was fit, for sure. When Draco’s eyes dipped even lower, he couldn’t keep from looking at the crotch of Harry’s denims.

It looked, even under the denims, as though Harry was a bit turned on.

“And that’s for me, as well, then.”

Harry’s mouth turned up in a smirk, though he kept his eyes closed at the moment.

Draco leaned forward and kissed the curl of his lip. Harry gasped, and Draco felt his own prick begin to stiffen.

He leaned back, and Harry leaned forward. It was impossibly slow, torturous, and heavenly.

Just when their lips were about to meet again, a voice came from the doorway. “Getting started without me?”

Harry’s head dropped, and he chuckled. Draco turned to look, and Hermione was standing there smiling at them.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she said and turned her hand over to encourage them.

Draco turned his head back, and Harry’s ruffled hair brushed against his cheek. It was surprisingly soft. Releasing the shirt to put his hands flat on Harry’s sides, Draco whispered, “She’s very bossy.”

When Harry’s eyes met Draco’s, they were twinkling. “Yes, she’s _very_ bossy. I like it.” Then, Harry’s lips were against Draco’s, smiling together at first, but it quickly turned toward exploration.

It was the same as kissing Hermione, and it was different. Later, Draco would wonder if it’s because Harry snogged Hermione so much that they had commonalities. However, Harry’s lips were thinner and his tongue more blunt.

Harry’s hands came to rest on Draco’s shoulders, and his fingers clenched any time Draco’s teeth scraped his tongue or lips. He was strong, and Harry was strong, and Draco knew that there would be power plays in the future if this kept up. He was looking forward to it.

After a long while, Harry pulled back, and Draco blinked his eyes open as he did. Hermione was standing behind Harry, her arm bent presumably on Harry’s back. Her cheeks were a pretty shade of pink, and her lips were glossy.

“Dinner, boys.”

Harry moved to stand, sliding off Draco’s knees with caution. He used Hermione’s shoulder to help him up before pulling her mouth to his. It was Draco’s turn to watch Harry snog Hermione, her body melting against his.

Unlike the other times, Draco felt safe to look. They _wanted_ him to. Their mouths danced against each other for a long as their eyes closed to the world. Then, Harry’s fingers fluttered over Hermione’s waist, and Draco stared as Harry’s hands pushed down to her arse.

Draco’s head lolled back on the couch, and he watched Harry knead Hermione’s bum. Each time he squeezed, Harry would roll his hips against Hermione’s, and soon, her head fell back so she could moan as Harry rutted against her.

It was the most erotic thing Draco had ever seen in his life.

Then, Hermione’s arse pushed against Harry’s hands, breaking the spell. Harry’s hands slid around her hips but let her slip away. When she turned to look at Draco once more, she smiled at him.

Draco licked his lips and smiled back, refusing to be embarrassed by his lust-addled state. She bent over him, and her lips were cool and damp on his cheek for half a moment. Then she urged him up with her hand in his, and Draco followed her into the dining room without a second thought.

He had to ignore the ravenous look Harry gave them as they walked away, or his knees would have given out entirely.

***

After dinner, they sat around a card table, and Draco had no idea what to expect. They had all calmed down enough that they could converse, but Draco had been very much looking forward to more time on the couch.

“I thought we’d play a game tonight,” Harry said and pulled out a deck of cards. He fanned them out and removed all of the clubs from the deck.

Draco leaned onto the card table, trying to pay attention.

Hermione smiled and said, “It’s a simple game we made up for _us_.” She looked at Draco and pointed her finger between the three of them, nodding softly. “We each get a suit: you get diamonds, Harry gets spades, and I have hearts. Each round we each turn over one card and the high card gets a favour.”

She blushed as she said the last bit, and Draco noticed she had rolled her eyes when she said she was hearts. “What kind of favour?”

Harry leaned over, and in that snaking, soft voice of his, asked, “What kind of favour would you like?”

Draco’s breath caught, and he had to work to swallow. He had heard of games like this before, but he never _actually_ thought that they were something that were _actually_ played.

Harry leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Nothing too extreme, of course. Trousers stay on but... Well, we thought this would be a fair way for each of us to be the centre of attention. We don’t want this to be just passing Hermione back and forth between us, as nice as that has been.” Then he handed Draco and Hermione their cards.

They each tapped the short stacks of cards with their wands, shuffling their own little decks.

“What happens if we tie?”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, as though they hadn’t thought of that. “Two winners, then,” Harry said. Hermione smiled and straightened her cards again.

The first round went to Harry, who blushed a bit when he said, “Give us a kiss, Draco?” He licked his lips, too.

Draco turned in his chair and leaned over the corner of the table. Just as Harry leaned forward, Draco said, “Didn’t get enough earlier, did you?”

His answer was a hot puff of breath just before their lips met. Draco gripped the table with fingers of his right hand and opened his mouth to let Harry’s tongue in. Their tongues were sliding together, when Hermione clapped from her side of the table.

“Oh. I like this game already,” she said with a smile.

Draco could feel the heat coming off Harry’s face as he pulled away. Then Harry’s hand moved to rub his neck, and Draco remembered that _Harry Potter_ was just a bloke, same as him.

Somehow, he wanted to kiss him more than ever.

Harry won again at the next round, and he gave Hermione a calculating look. “Bra off, love.”

“Harry!” she exclaimed, and her hands went on her hips.

“It’s so sexy when you don’t have a bra on under your top. Besides, I don’t have anything under my shirt.”

Her lips pursed.

Harry leered.

Hermione crossed her arms and huffed.

Draco thought that he was missing something. “If you don’t want to, Hermione—“

“She goes without a bra all the time at home. It’s something else.”

She stuck her chin out and looked up at the ceiling. It looked as if she was chewing her tongue for a moment before she said, “I went to the shops today, Harry. I would like you to ask for a different favour, please.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to perk up, and he gave Draco a gentle shove across the table. “A similar favour, Hermione?”

Hermione was straining to keep her lips pursed, now, and Draco saw her eyes light up a bit.

“Draco, let me just tell you now. Never, ever complain when Hermione is late.” Then, he turned to Hermione. “Can I shrink your jumper a bit?”

Finally, Hermione smiled. She nodded, and Harry flipped his wand over with his wrist once. The buttons began to pull apart, revealing Hermione’s breasts in a very pretty brassiere. It was pale pink, just a tone or two darker than her skin, but it had black lace and black bows.

Draco stared at it. He’d felt her up while they were snogging, yes, but now he could see her, and they were lovely.

It seemed that Harry thought so, too. He said so, and then blew Hermione a kiss across the table.

She was beautiful: smiling, hair curling around her face, jumper pulled open.

“Draco.”

He blinked.

“Draco,” Harry said more firmly and gave his shoulder another shove.

“What?”

“Play a card.”

_A card? Oh. Oh!_

Draco blushed and shook his head, flipping a card to find that he had won his first hand of the night. Desperate to make up for being slobbering idiot moments ago, he stood, walked around to Hermione’s chair, and lifted her jaw up for a long, savouring kiss. He stroked his thumbs over her cheeks, and when he finally pulled back, Hermione hummed.

The game played on, and then they played again and again. Combinations of kissing, mini-massages, shirt-swapping, and lap-sitting were sprinkled with teasing and laughter, and the occasional stories.

When the clock chimed midnight, they all turned to stare. _How had it gotten so late?_

Harry and Hermione walked Draco to the Floo. They looked a bit silly. Hermione was wearing Draco’s shirt over her bra, her jumper having continued to shrink as the game played. Harry was shirtless, which Draco had seen before, but it meant something so much more, now. Draco was wearing Harry’s shirt, which he could just barely get his arms into and couldn’t button.

“Tomorrow?” Harry asked as Hermione pulled away from her good-night kiss.

Draco smiled and nodded before stepping closer to Harry. He placed a hand on his hip and kissed him as well. They’d explored, a bit, the size difference between the two men with the game. Draco had a better idea what to do with himself when it came to Harry, now.

Feeling warm enough to get home and excited to be back the next night, Draco stepped through the Floo, finding his bed a welcome distraction from the night.

* * *

Work the next week was good. They did some physical training, and Draco managed to jinx the desk he wanted so its occupant would be... inspired to move. By Thursday afternoon, Draco was inspecting his newest acquisition, which included a lovely view of The-Boy-Who-Lived, himself.

When Friday night came, Draco was pacing frantically around his flat and regretting the impulse that had had him inviting Harry and Hermione over in the first place. He didn’t know why he had thought deviating from the norm would be a good idea, but they were due any minute.

He lit the candles _again_ , trying not to chastise himself for extinguishing them just moments before.

Was he over-doing it? Was he doing enough? Maybe if he just showed up at Harry’s, they could have another night there, and they could just forget about this foolishness.

But _no_. The sounds of people coming through the Floo meant that he was out of time. Striding to the fireplace, Draco smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt without even realising.

Hermione came out first, smiling and wearing a very pretty dress. Draco took her hand and helped her stand, then turned to watch for Harry. He came through just steps behind Hermione, nearly colliding with Draco. Hermione side-stepped, and Harry’s hands grabbed Draco’s arms as he caught his balance.

Without thinking, Draco flexed and held Harry’s ribs until he felt stable. Their eyes met, and Harry closed the distance between their mouths, turning his head to make snogging that much easier. Surprised at first, Draco pulled Harry closer, wrapping his arms around his middle until their chests were together. Harry’s arms wrapped around Draco’s shoulders, and Draco let a week’s worth of fantasies spur him into consuming anywhere he could get his lips.

He gave himself to the moment. Soon, Harry’s hands were working the buttons on his shirt, and Draco felt the air of the room for a moment before hands slid over his flesh and around his back.

Feeling another man’s shirt on his chest made Draco’s heart race. Not to be outdone, Draco tugged up on Harry’s t-shirt, drawing back just long enough to pull it over Harry’s head. Then he slid his hands over Harry’s shoulders, and his fingers gripped unruly black hair.

Harry pushed forward, sliding his tongue through Draco’s lips. Draco accepted it, sucking it in as he took a step back. Harry continued to advance, and Draco let him. With his arms over Harry’s shoulders, he felt completely capable of altering the course if Harry did something he didn’t want.

Soon enough, though, Draco’s arse was pressed against the arm of a wingback chair. He perched on it, spreading his thighs so that Harry could stand between. Like this, Harry had the height advantage. Draco’s thoughts raced to catch up with time.

As always, Harry was barrelling ahead, and that meant that he was now rolling his hips against Draco’s. Draco could feel Harry’s hard cock against his own. They found a rhythm, pulling each other closer and feeling their bodies press together.

Harry pulled his mouth away from Draco’s, and shining green eyes held his attention. “You’re like a bloody inferno, Malfoy.”

Draco swallowed, not sure what to do besides rut against Harry.

That’s when he chuckled and dropped his mouth by Draco’s ear. “We were trying to take it slow for you, but—” Harry groaned, and his body shook a little bit. His body went harder and faster before he gripped Draco’s sides, holding him still.

His strangled breaths moments later made it clear to Draco that Harry had just finished. He fell slack against Draco’s chest. Draco froze with indecision. He was close, _so close_ himself, but he didn’t feel right continuing with Harry as he was.

Soon enough, though, Harry was on his feet again. “Bathroom?”

He looked guilty... and giddy. They shared a smile, and Draco waved his hand in the direction of the bathroom. As Harry walked away, Draco saw red hand prints on his bare shoulders.

Draco scrubbed his face with his fingers as he slid into the chair. When his hands fell away, Hermione was standing a few feet from him. She licked her lips and smiled. It was so saucy, and Draco was so drunk on his own arousal and Harry’s desperation, that he just patted his lap while he looked at her.

That made her laugh, but she sauntered up to him anyway. She straddled his legs, but sat back so her arse was on his knees.

Draco finished untucking his shirt and sat back\\. This way, he could rest his back on the chair and still get his hands on Hermione. They crept up her thighs, and when they were high enough, she spread the skirt of her dress over his fingers.

_That_ made him smile, and he took it as tacit permission to move his hands even higher. He’d never touched her bare thighs before, and they were soft and smooth. Something primal urged him higher, and although he couldn’t pull his eyes from her beautiful breasts, Draco listened to her breath as he went.

When his fingers touched soft cotton, she gasped. Draco’s gaze flew to her face and found her with her eyes closed and mouth open. His hands went around her arse and pulled her core against his pulsing erection.

“Do you like that?” he asked. He had meant to check that he hadn’t over-stepped, but his voice was so low that it sounded less like a question and more like statement of fact.

“Oh, yes!” Hermione began rolling her core over his trousers, seeking her own pleasure.

Draco was reminded of the night in the locker room, Hermione riding Harry until she squealed with ecstasy. _This_ was what it was like to be beneath Hermione Granger. Draco let his head fall back as he watched her.

There was something about her pleasure that increased his exponentially.

Harry reappeared behind Hermione, moving her hair back from her face and off her neck. “Are you wet, love?”

Her eyes shot open, and she looked straight at Draco. She blushed and said, “Yes, very.”

Draco looked between the two of them. Harry’s mouth came down behind Hermione’s ear, and she shivered as she continued to slide her core up and down Draco’s length through his trousers. The next moment though, Hermione was pulling his fingers to pussy.

With his heart pounding in his chest, Draco pushed her knickers aside. Her skin was soft, smooth, and very, very wet. He looked up again, finding Hermione’s tits in Harry’s hands. Hermione had her eyes closed, but her mouth was trembling, a gentle rise at the corners.

“Spread her lips, Draco.”

Dizzy, Draco did as Harry said. As he did, he could feel even more wetness. “Do you like that?”

Hermione’s answer was a loud moan and a nod. She was pushing back against Harry, rolling her hips to give Draco more access.

“At the top is her clit. Rub it,” Harry instructed, teeth moving over her collar bone.

Hermione’s dress was now bunched up in her hands, exposing herself to them. With his other hand, Draco pulled her knickers away so he could look and found a dark pink knot just where Harry had said. He put his thumb to it, and Hermione’s hips jerked.

“That’s it,” Harry whispered. His hands were really rubbing Hermione’s breasts now, but she was just panting and licking her lips.

Draco let the knickers fall back into place as he focused on exploring Hermione’s clit. He pushed on it, and she moaned. He slid his thumb over it once, and she gasped. When he slid it between two fingers, she fell forward out of Harry’s hands to lean on Draco’s shoulders.

“Finger me.”

Draco looked up at Harry, who was adjusting himself. Harry wagged his middle finger, and Draco pushed his middle finger deep into Hermione.

“Yes!” Hermione hissed, pushing herself down on it.

Pumping his finger as fast as he could, Draco explored her. It was wet and tight and hot. He wanted his prick in there.

“Use two fingers. She likes two.”

Harry’s voice snaked into Draco’s thoughts, and he realised that Harry was now standing behind the chair, watching them.

Two fingers slid into her, and Hermione keened. Her breasts pressed against Draco’s chest, and her head rested on his shoulder. He worked back up to the earlier pace, feeling his wrist starting to tire, but not caring.

“We’ve talked about this. She’s wanted you inside her for a long time.”

Draco wasn’t sure why Harry was saying all of this, but it made Hermione pump herself on his fingers faster, and Draco felt like he was getting closer too.

“We can’t wait to shag you, Draco. Each of us. Both of us. Make her come, Draco. She’s so close.”

But he didn’t know how. He pushed his ankles into the ground, leveraging his hips as he fingered her tight, wet pussy. Then Hermione leaned back, pulling down on the front of her dress to expose her breasts. Without a thought, Draco pulled her nipple into his mouth.

The rest was just moans, Hermione’s hands clenching on his skin, her hips driving down on his fingers until she finally, _finally_ stiffened in his hands. He felt her cunt squeeze his fingers, and knowing that it could be his prick, _would_ be, Draco felt his own orgasm rip through him.

They crumpled together, panting and over-sensitive. They didn’t move for a long time.

Hermione was the first pull away. She climbed down from his lap. Then, she gave him a kiss and said, “I really like your flat.”

* * *

After that, Friday night was always at Draco’s flat, and Saturday was at Grimmauld Place. The nights stretched longer, bleeding into mornings.

In training, Draco began to overtake the other trainees. The witch ranked just ahead of him was easy to pass over, but the higher he climbed, the tighter the competition became. Four months after his birthday, and Draco was still only fourth in the class.

His relationship with Harry and Hermione, still a desperate secret, was accelerating exponentially faster. He spent most of his weekend in the company of at least one, if not both of them. They had found private places in Muggle London where they could go out and relax. Draco was shocked when Harry had interlaced their fingers while out and about once, but looking around, he saw other pairs of blokes doing far more than that, so he squeezed Harry’s fingers back in return.

Draco could not believe his life. Waking up late one Saturday morning in October, the silvery autumn light beamed in on his bed where he slept with Harry and Hermione, pants and knickers the only attire. When they were gone, his bed felt vast and empty, unless he could remember who had slept where the week before. Then he could roll into that spot and _remember_.

This morning, however, he woke up with Hermione’s head on his chest. That meant that her legs were tangled up with Harry’s. He tossed a bit when he slept, so he was less likely to have a cuddle in the night.

Draco slid out of bed as carefully as he could so he could go use the bathroom. When he came back, the sheets were tangled and shoved to the bottom of the bed. Harry, with his eyes still sleepy and closed, was whispering in Hermione’s ear. They lay like spoons, and Draco leaned against his wardrobe to watch.

Whatever Harry was saying was turning Hermione on. She was licking her lips and smiling, her head nodding on the pillow. Behind her, Harry’s hips were rubbing his prick against her bum. Harry had done that to Draco more than once, and he quite liked it. Hermione’s hand began to caress her body, sliding into the valley of her waist, then over her hip to her thigh. After a few passes back and forth, Harry pulled Hermione’s thigh back over his, spreading her legs apart.

“Drac-o!” Hermione called, though her voice was barely a whisper.

He flinched forward, but then held his position. Draco still loved to watch Harry and Hermione together. Even though they would row sometimes, Harry and Hermione had the best relationship Draco had ever seen. He had so much to learn before he could have what they did, and he desperately wanted that with each of them.

Behind Hermione, Harry chuckled. “She’s wet for you, mate.”

Hermione blushed and smiled. Her gaze pinned him where he stood.

Draco felt dizzy as his blood left his head and filled his cock. They had been _so close_ again and again, but Draco always hesitated. He just didn’t feel... _ready_.

Hermione’s hand stroked his place in the bed, circling around it in invitation. Draco moved forward, crawling into bed next to her. He was now self-conscious that he was only in his pants, although, feeling Hermione’s nipples on his chest as she kissed him was a welcome distraction.

As Hermione stretched herself over Draco’s body, her thighs coming between his after she had adjusted his prick to rest between their bellies, Harry inched closer. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared up at Draco.

“Morning.” Harry reached up to push Draco’s hair back from his face.

“Potter,” Draco said with a smile once Hermione had moved her kissing down to his neck.

Harry smiled. Glancing at Hermione, they both saw her mouth leaving a trail of gentle kisses as she wriggled down Draco’s body. Harry groaned, rolling to his back so he could wrap his hand around his cock. “Watching is so intense.”

“I know,” Draco and Hermione said at the same time. She chuckled, and her breath tickled Draco’s chest. As a reflex, his hand smoothed over his chest, soothing the sensitive flesh. Hermione’s mouth was well out of the way as she kissed lower and lower. 

Harry was quiet for a long moment, lost in watching Hermione lick and nibble Draco’s hip bones. “Can I watch your first time?” he asked quietly.

Draco’s pulse doubled and doubled again. Hermione’s hair was tickling his thighs, and Harry was gazing up at him, looking like he wanted nothing more in the world. “I don’t— I’m not ready.” He shut his eyes, hiding as he said those thoughts out loud for the first time.

That’s when Hermione’s fingers, warm and soft, wrapped around his prick. His hips pushed up, and Hermione hummed. “Looks ready to me.”

Draco’s eyes popped open, and he scowled down at her. It took every effort to curl his lip since her hand felt _so good_ around him. “I won’t last. It won’t be as good as it is with Harry. I...”

“Not at first,” Hermione said as she pet him.

Harry lifted up, turning to rest on his arm. “No one, no matter what they say, has a good first time. When we were _first_ starting out, I came before I could even push in.”

“Twice.”

That little comment earned Hermione a sharp swat on the arse as she knelt between Draco’s thighs. She shrieked, “Harry!” and then dove on top of him, fingers in his ribs. She began tickling him fiercely.

Soon, Harry was hoarse with his laughter and begging Draco for help. Draco was laughing, as well, but took pity on Harry. Sneaking an arm between their bodies, he used his own body weight to roll Hermione off to the other side.

When they were settled, Draco was kneeling between Hermione’s thighs, her tickling hands restrained at the wrist by her head. She stared up at him, pupils dilated, breathing heavily, and licking her lips.

Everyone was silent for a second, and then she asked, “Please, Draco?”

It was soft and quiet and melted his heart even as his cock surged with need. Harry was there to assist, pulling Draco’s pants down his thighs, and then helping Hermione with her knickers. Draco was over-whelmed and didn’t even think to move to get under clothes out of the way. “You’re sure?”

Hermione nodded, her eyes staying locked with his. Draco moved his hands to get ready to figure out how to, but Harry’s hand was already around him, guiding his hips down to Hermione’s. Then, Harry slid the tip of Draco’s cock into the wetness, toward her centre.

“Close your eyes if you’re close,” Harry whispered.

His other hand had come to rest over Draco’s tail bone, and it made Draco feel grounded and safe. He took the advice, squeezing his eyes shut tight. Then, on instinct, his hips slid forward, and Draco was as deep as he could be inside of Hermione.

“Oh God. Hermione. My fucking God.” Draco’s body shook a couple times as he fought to keep from coming straight away.

Her reply was a loud hiss of affirmation. Draco felt her heels come around to the backs of her thighs, and her hips rolled up toward his.

“Easy, Hermione.” Harry’s voice trickled into his ear, but Draco felt a kiss land on his temple. Then, the sound of Harry pushing away, rustling the sheets.

Draco swallowed and let his eyes open slowly. Below him, Hermione was panting and smiling and giving him _that_ look. To his right, Harry was propped up on pillows, his pants pulled down to expose his prick. He was pulling on it, slowly.

It made Draco roar, and his hips began to piston in and out of Hermione. He was lost to the world, only Hermione’s returning moans filtering into his world. Ecstasy built from every pore of his body until Draco was screaming as his seed shot into Hermione.

His elbows folded, and his knees slid, landing his body on top of Hermione’s. Her arms came around him, and Draco relaxed into them. He didn’t think to roll off her body at first, but sweat began to pool where they were pressed together. With a hoarse grunt, Draco pull out, rolling to lay between her and Harry.

Hermione pulled a sheet between them before pressing her body against his. Harry pushed the hair back from Draco’s face and kissed him, sucking Draco’s tongue into his mouth. “Have a kip and we’ll do a bit more after breakfast.”

Draco nodded, his body already dragging him to unconsciousness. He felt Harry’s breath on his shoulder as he settled back, and then Draco was lost in slumber.


End file.
